Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Portia—” I began, but I got no further because she leaned into me.
But it wasn’t with anger or attitude, as it usually would be.
It felt like what had been filling the car from Lou on the way there.
Fear.
“I like him, okay? Don’t mess this up,” she begged. “I need you guys,”—she turned her head Lou’s way—“both of you guys, to be really cool and not mess this up.”
“How exactly would we mess this up?” I inquired.
“Portia.”
At her name intoned in a man’s cultured voice coming from the direction of the door, we all looked that way.
And I knew exactly what we might mess up.
Yes, Richard and Jane, the Earl and Countess Alcott, were the upper crust. Tall. Straight. He was ageing almost preternaturally well: his dark hair only touched with silver, his perfect bone structure offering the foundation for his continued good looks even though (I’d looked him up), he was nearly sixty-five. And she was a goddess. Cool and blonde. Ethereal didn’t describe her. The house didn’t need to be haunted, her beauty was haunting enough.
They walked into the room, and we all stood.
“Your family has arrived,” Richard stated like an accusation.
“Yes, I sent word,” Portia said.
“Which is why we’re here,” Richard replied frostily. He turned to Lou. “You must be Louella.”
You must be Louella?
I thought they’d met.
Lou didn’t remind him of that.
“Yes, yes. Hi. Hello.” She moved forward, holding up a hand.
Both Richard and Jane stared at it for a scant moment as if trying to cypher some way to avoid touching it before Richard reached out and took it briefly and let her go.
Jane did not.
Richard also didn’t look Lou in the face.
Then again, Lou managed the whole encounter with her eyes pinned to some point beyond Richard’s shoulder.
Weird.
“Welcome to our home,’ Richard droned.
“And this is Daphne,” Portia declared, pushing me a bit toward them.
I, however, did not offer my hand.
“My Lord, my Lady,” I said aloofly, matching their welcome. “Thank you for having us.”
Richard’s attention was sharp on me. Jane remained expressionless.
Richard looked to Portia. “You’ll explain the rules?”
The rules?
And, hello, how do you do to you too.
Asshole.
“Of course,” Portia assured quickly.
“We’ll let you catch up,” Richard declared. “And we’ll see you at dinner.”
With that, breathing not another word nor gifting us with another look, they left the room, Richard closing the door like he didn’t want someone passing and seeing us in there.
Slowly, I turned my head to regard my sister.
She read my expression.
“It takes a while for them to melt,” she explained.
“Have they melted toward you?” I demanded to know.
She shrugged.
Meaning: No.
Right, we’d get into that later.
I pressed on. “Rules?”
“I told you they dress for dinner.” She suddenly appeared panicked. “Did you bring clothes to dress for dinner? They’re sticklers about it. Cocktails at six thirty sharp, seating at seven fifteen, also sharp. The men wear suits and ties, the women, cocktail dresses at least.”
I didn’t mention we weren’t on a cruise ship, and it was just plain weird that we’d be expected to dress up for dinner for ten days straight (for goodness’ sake, I’d had to pack two suitcases for this shindig). I didn’t do it now, and I didn’t do it when she’d asked me to come and told me what to pack.
I just said, “Yes.”
My sister showed immediate relief, the extent of which worried me.
“Portia—” I started again.
“You’ll get a tour,” she said. “Either from Daniel or Richard, not one of the staff. After tea, you’ll be shown to your rooms to rest and freshen up and prepare for dinner. You aren’t allowed to, um…wander the house until you’re shown what areas are accessible and what are off limits.”
“We’d hardly go poking around their home without permission,” I noted.
“They just wanted me to make sure you wouldn’t,” she returned.
“Please assure them we’re not going to ramble around the house looking for Instagram-worthy photo ops or filming video to splice into TikToks,” I told her.
“That’s another thing. No social media. At all,” she replied.
I pressed my lips together, because…obviously.
“Right, of course,” Portia mumbled, “I just…well, I promised them I’d make things clear.”
“When you speak to them, you can share you did just that.”
“For the most part you’ll be guided where you need to be by staff,” Portia stated. “Until, you know, you get the lay of the land.”
“We’ll be the perfect guests,” Lou promised.
Even though she gave a slight nod to note she’d heard the words, Portia barely looked at her.
I let that slide too and asked, “When are we going to meet Daniel?”
“He’s at work,” she told me.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I told her.
“He’ll be here by cocktails.”
I nodded, wondering how she was there on a Friday afternoon. She had a job too, and it was in London.
I let that go (for now) as well.
So no tour, unless Richard decided to endure our presence for the hours it would take to show us his house. Then again, if he did that, we wouldn’t have time to dress for dinner. Or, if it was as it seemed to be, for the few minutes it’d take to show us the small portions of his house we were allowed to inhabit.